The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-07-10

studied AL the literature relating to him for an
entire winter. Mr.. House wrote many sonuets;
too many, he often said. One of the best is
WERE 1T BUT TRUE.
All, the legend of PvcmaIIon true
! think hand would clench the chisel so
That all my soul would my fingers flow
Till they would bring my inmost thoughts to view.
As should from the shapeless marble hew
A form that like your own. should surely grow
So true that meath my carving hand would show
My souls ideal-the counterpart of you.
And stone should there unbrearhing lie
A sonlless shape wrought ny the sculptors knife;
For would voice M soul with such a cry
;, That it should hear and rise. my breathing wife,
Breaking its sleep with loves awaking sigh
When had loved it INTO pulsng life
Often Mr. House left too much to the imagin-
alton OF his readers, but this is not ALWAYS q
fault Here is piece In which vagueness
adds 70 the effect and vivid picture is prod uced
by few quick strokes:
Low lap OF water midst the sedge
An owls weird boot from governed legde,
shadow 1T the waters edge;
BY clouds the solemn starlight crossed,
a sullen plunge. the shadow lost,
The lake S calm surface wave-embossed-
A plunge in search of Lethe's well.
To quench the FL es of nemorys hell.
PerchaLce twas found but who can teLs
The lake resumes its placid blue
An echo breaks the stiffness through.
From off the ledge ghostly WHO'D
10 this review effort has been made to show
the general trend of Mg. Houses work. He was
poet who wrote only when It pleased him to do
So de scoffed AZ inspiration, and said he could
write satisfactorily at time a another.
He was frequently called upon TO prepare poems
upon special subjects, and would lauehingly
speak OF filling orders for rhyme If some
person competent for the duty who knew the
man well. and judged him kindly. we're to go
through the collection of his poems, carefully
judge of their merits, and edit where necessary,
a volume might be prepared which would be
valuable addition to American literature. For
the most part his later writings appeared in the
Journal. although he contributed to the Current
in its better days, to the Boston Transcript, ard
other publications Two or three poems,
hy of the Eastern magazines, but
have not yet been published He Sacked pa
thence. If ne did not finish poem at single
sitting. he would cast it aside and give in no
further attention.
An impression that he had no friends caused
him 10 be norose. and this feeling is seen in his
poetry. II he did not like any one whom he
met he at all backward in voicing his
sentiment He mingled little in society, and
from choice lived a peculiar sem-hermit life.
OF late years he has not been at all times his
real self. but troubles and failing health were
responsible for many of his idiosyncrasies. The
writer has never seen a man more magnetic. he
was agreeable companion when he cared to
be, and impressed the we'll bred gentle
man his intimates knew him to be.
The sestet of a sonnet which he wrote upon
the occasion of Grants death may fttngy be
reproduced in conclusion:
o folded hands that held wars bridle-reins;
o tired heart! thou hast at last release
From all earths fret and sense-ensaving pains;
Let every sound of mournful vaiing cease;
For thy white tent is pitched on restful plains,
Where thou hast found at length the longed-for